


Sometimes, it's just not worth it.

by ItsElyseGuise



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Cutting, Depression, Drama oh, Friendship/Love, Hospitals, Love Confessions, M/M, Sappy Ending, Spooning, elounor if you squint, larry stylinson - Freeform, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsElyseGuise/pseuds/ItsElyseGuise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why did you try and kill yourself?"</p>
<p>"You said you wanted me to be happy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes, it's just not worth it.

Sometimes, it’s just not worth it.

Warning: Includes self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts and triggering material.

Sometimes, it’s just not worth getting out of bed in the morning. Most days Harry  would wake up to find his cat sitting on his chest purring loudly and pawing at his face until he moved out into the kitchen and filled her food bowl. But today he woke up to a thumping headache and no cat to be found. His stomach and thighs ached as he sat himself up, shuddering as his bare feet were exposed to the cool December air.

He walked to the en suite situated outside of his bedroom, taking an Advil then stripping to his underwear to inspect the damage he’d inflicted upon himself the night before. He took off the bandages to see that the cuts were red and angry, his old cuts long turned into scars; thin white lines running across his leg and a long one from when he was feeling extra depressed. His stomach wasn’t any better. His pale skin was almost fluorescent under the bathroom lights and his usual brown curls were dull and lifeless, as were his green eyes.

Harry sighed, taking off the rest of his clothing and jumping into the shower. The hot water seared as it hit his skin making his teeth clench, but the burn was good. After standing under the burning sensation for about 5 minutes he hopped out and towelled off.

He took a moment to inspect his skin; red blotches covered his back and arms and the intensity of the water must’ve aggravated the most recent cuts because the ones on his stomach had opened up again and were leaving red lines of crimson blood running down towards his legs. He grabbed some bandages from the mirrored cupboard above the basin, grumbling under his breath as he went. After cleaning up again, he dressed in some sweat pants and a loose fitting shirt before walking downstairs, cringing as his muscles screamed with every step. He found the cat sitting at the end of the hallway cleaning its paws and she meowed when she saw him. He walked into the kitchen finding his best friend, also the man he was infatuated with and his girlfriend sitting at the dining table.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The dictionary describes a friend as ‘a person whom one knows and has a bond of mutual affection’.

Louis wasn’t just Harry’s friend. He was his rock; he was the main reason Harry stayed on this earth longer than he’d originally planned he would. When Harry was 16 he planned his own death. It was going to be quick and clean, he was going to swallow some sleeping pills and leave it up to someone to find him. But as he walked to the nearest pharmacy to purchase the little bottle of salvation, he saw a flash of auburn hair and before he knew it, Harry was on the pavement. As he stood himself up, he noticed that the auburn head of hair had a small body attached to it. He was shorter than he was, and he flushed red, embarrassed that he’d just been knocked down by someone of Louis’ height. The boy apologised and introduced himself as Louis Tomlinson. He had more of a Yorkshire accent, compared to Harry’s Cheshire one. Harry didn’t say much, he just let Louis talk - and what a good talker he was. He was such a happy person, and Harry found him intriguing. His feet suddenly had a mind of their own and he found himself walking along with Louis, in the opposite way to what he was going before. In some way, Louis saved his life. That time.

So, that’s how Louis and Harry met. They quickly became friends and kept in touch. Louis had promised that every Thursday night he would ring Harry after he finished work. Harry began looking forward to those calls more and more. They spent most of their time together on the weekends and when Louis joined the local football team, Harry went and watched every game and every practice. Harry moved out of home, much to the disappointment of his mother, and moved in with Louis into a two bedroom flat he’d bought when he’d first moved to town.

For Lou’s 19th birthday they went to a pub, and because Harry was 16 and underage, he stayed at a table and drank a coke through a bendy straw while Louis was out on the dance floor grinding with a girl with long brown hair and even longer slim legs. Harry could see the look of utter happiness on Louis’ face as he danced with her. Harry had an empty feeling deep in the pit of his stomach and his body was beginning to become warm. He was getting _jealous_ of these people out on the floor that were able to dance with Louis. It was at that point that Harry realised he was beginning to fall for his best friend.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Harry doesn’t eat very often. When Louis is still out, from the night before with Eleanor -who happened to be the girl he had danced with on his birthday- or he has started at work early, he usually just skips breakfast. He might have an apple for lunch but that’s mainly it for food during the day. But when Louis comes home alone, which is very rarely, and attempts to cook them both dinner, Harry eats it with a forced smile and then, when Louis’ in the living room watching a football game and too busy yelling at the TV for them to ‘Pass the bloody ball!’ Harry sneaks upstairs to make himself sick. He couldn't say what made him start to do this to himself; and he couldn't pinpoint an exact time he started purging, and honestly he didn't want to remember.

Perhaps it was seeing Louis walk around the flat shirtless; which Harry was not going to complain about because he had the body of a Greek Adonis. It just made Harry hate himself even more. His skin was pale and Louis’ was tan, he was scrawny and Louis had a defined six-pack and big biceps. And above all that, Louis could walk around without a shirt and not have to worry about people seeing self-inflicted wounds. Harry wasn't jealous of Louis, he envied him.

It was about the middle of October, when Louis confronted Harry about his weight. Apparently he’d been losing ‘too much’ weight the past weeks and Louis had noticed and was all of a sudden concerned.

“It’s just not normal for a guy your age to have your body mass.” Louis ran his hands over his face as he paced in the living room. Harry was sitting on the couch, staring at the blank television. “Your clothes are practically swimming on you and…. When’s the last time you weighed yourself?” Harry looked up at him, meeting Louis’ hard stare.

“I don’t have to answer that. It’s my body and you have no bloody right to tell me what I have to do.” He stood up and went to walk up the stairs. His foot was on the second step when he felt Louis’ hard grip on his wrist. He turned to see Louis’ expression had softened and his eyes had genuine concern in them.

“I’m just worried about you Harry. You never come out anymore, you’re always in your room and the last woman I saw you with was your mother when she came to visit.”

“I’m fine Louis. I just like my personal space.” Louis didn't look impressed at his reasoning but let Harry’s wrist go nonetheless. It wasn't until he was upstairs that his emotions caught up with him; Harry slid down the bathroom vanity crying silently.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“I’ve asked Eleanor to marry me.”

That one sentence. Those six _stupid_ words. They’re what drove Harry to this; sitting on the bathroom floor with his razor and tears running freely down his cheeks. He didn’t give a shit anymore. His left wrist had six slashes (one for each word) and his thighs had three each. He laughed weakly as he watched the blood bead and drip down his arm. The skin was red and irritated. He couldn’t help it; Harry had finally let his guard down and cut his wrists. It didn’t matter, all of his suffering would be over soon anyway.

Harry hadn’t said anything to Louis or Eleanor, he had just nodded and ran upstairs and now here he was. He was slightly disappointed that Louis didn’t come to find him, but I soon forgot about that. _It’s not like he cares or anything._ He stood up, cleaning up his cuts and looked up, seeing his sad reflection looking back at him. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy and his cheeks were flushed red.

The next day, Harry forced himself downstairs; arms covered, to find no Eleanor, but a tired looking Louis leaning against the island counter in the kitchen, holding a steaming cup of what Harry presumed was Yorkshire tea - two lumps of sugar and a dash of milk. Louis’ fingers were tapping against the mug as he stared at the floor with a look of concentration on his face. His eyebrows were scrunched together and his teeth were digging into his bottom lip. Harry shuffled into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of English breakfast. He leant on the cupboard, slowly sipping on his hot drink and waited for Louis to speak, because he _just knew_ what was coming.

“Haz?” Harry hummed in response, letting Louis know he was listening. “Are you happy?” _Well that’s not where I thought this was going,_ Harry thought. Louis’ voice was soft, almost in a whisper. Harry looked up in confusion. Louis’ eyes were swimming with worry and Harry just didn’t know how to respond. He looked back down at the floor, thinking.

Is he happy? That’s such a difficult question to answer. He would usually say yes, because he has a loving family, he has (some) friends and his life could be _a lot_ worse. But then at 3 in the morning, when he’s suddenly crying and convincing himself that no one likes him, or ever will like him; he feels terrible and he questions everything he ever had. And then he doesn’t know if he was ever happy at all.

“Of course I am Lou,” His answer is weak, and he just _knows_ Louis doesn’t believe him. Harry doesn’t look up at him but he hears Louis sigh and put down his mug. Harry’s vision of the floor is suddenly obstructed by a pair of red and white stripped TOMs and black jeans rolled up at the ankle. Louis put his finger under Harry’s chin and tilted his head up. His eyes meet Louis’ and his breath hitches. He has unshed tears in his eyes and he can’t, for the love of god, figure out why Louis’ the upset one.

“Then why are you being so distant to everyone? Including me? Just tell me the truth Harry.” _The truth? Okay. I like you. A lot. You make me happy, you make me laugh. You’re different, a little crazy, and awkward. But most of all, your smile alone can make my day._

Harry forces out, “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression but I’m happy.” But he bites back the ‘Promise’ because he can’t promise something like that. Definitely not to Lou. He hears Louis sigh again, but this one is kind of in relief.

“Good, because I just want you to be happy. Now, I need your help picking out a tux. Eleanor and I have decided a date for the wedding and its December 9th.” Harry’s reaction is slow. He’s nodding when he realises what he’s just said. December 9th. That’s less than two months away. Fuck.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Death is always something that is either expected or entirely _un_ expected. You couldn’t say that someone on their death bed, or someone with a lethal disease that dies is unexpected, but suicide is surprising. If you’re _really_ observant then you could notice little differences in behaviour leading up to the death, but if you’re not, well, it’s totally unexpected.

Louis is getting dressed; ready for his rehearsal dinner, three days before his wedding. He’s thinking of reasons why Harry had to go so hastily when he was on the phone to him an hour ago. He’s startled out of his thoughts when Gemma, Harry’s sister, rushes in to Louis’ room at the Tomlinson family home in Holmes Chapel, with bloodshot eyes, like she’s been crying and looks around frantically until she spots Louis. Fresh tears pool in her eyes and flow freely down her flushed cheeks. Her voice is broken and weak.

“Lou… Harry’s been taken…. to the hospital… he-..” She can’t finish, but Louis half understands. His stomach is in his throat and the colour has drained from his face. What has happened? They rush to Holmes Chapel Hospital, Gemma sobbing in the Range Rover’s passenger seat and Louis grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are practically white. Gemma is barely out of the car but Louis chucks her the keys and jumps out; slamming his door and running to the entrance. The woman at the front desk is obnoxiously chewing her gum, playing _Bejewelled_ on her computer and listening to her iPod so she doesn’t hear or see Louis appear.

“Harry Styles?” Louis tries. He waits one, two, three seconds. He’s worried and frustrated and this girl isn’t making it any better. He rips her head phones out of her ears and tries again. “Harry Styles!?” The girl is startled but shakes out of it.

“Oh, uhh sorry.” Louis scoffs, because _‘yeah, of course she is.’_ She types something into the computer and looks back up at Louis. By now Gemma has caught up with Louis and is at his side. “Harry Styles, ICU; room 23.” Louis’ heart stops. ICU? What has that boy done? He takes off again, ignoring Gemma’s calls of “Louis, wait!” but he can’t wait. His best friend is in the bloody ICU. He finds the ICU and walks down the hallway. He’s always hated hospitals. The stark walls, the cleanliness, the smell and overall, the fear of losing a loved one in one of those stupid beds and stupid beeping heart monitor. He’s walking now, breathing hard as he passes the rooms, _19, 20, 21, 22,_ and finally _23._

Harry’s family are sitting outside the room; Anne, his mother is sitting in one of the chairs, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. Robin, his step dad is in the chair next to her, his face hard and void of emotion as he looks ahead at the wall. Des, Harry’s father is pacing the corridor as he mutters to himself. Anne looks up, sniffling and wiping her eyes and see’s Louis. She sobs as she jumps up and pulls him into a tight, bone crushing hug. Louis doesn’t know what to do so he stands there, hugs her back and lets her cry into his shirt. When she’s finished, she pulls back, wiping her eyes once again.

“Anne, what happened?” She sobs again, eyes wide in confusion.

“Didn’t Gemma tell you?” She turns around to look at her daughter. Gemma is sitting in Anne’s seat and looks up at the mention of her name.

“Tell me what? What happened?” Louis demands. Anne’s eyes are soft as she looks back at him.

“Lou, Harry tried to kill himself.” And Louis collapses.

/

_Harry is on the phone to Louis, who’s at his family home, when he decides it. He’s going to die today._

_“Harry? Did you hear what I said?”_

_“Hmm? Oh sorry.”_

_“Are you alright? You seem a little distant.”_

_“Yeah I’m fine Lou, just deep in thought.”_

_“Oh okay, well as I was saying; Mum wants to have a backyard wedding and I argued that it was too cold but she’s gone ahead and set it up with Eleanor  without any of this said to me. I mean, I’m the bloody groom and I don’t have a say. How stupid is that?”_

_“Ha yeah,” Harry agrees weakly. “Look Lou, I’ve gotta go. I’ll leave you to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.”_

_“Oh uh okay, bye Harry, see you soon.” Harry doesn’t reply to that, he just hangs up because ‘No. You won’t Lou.’ After checking that Gemma was busy downstairs, he can tell because she’s yelling at the TV about Britain’s Next Top Model being rigged, he walks to the bathroom, grabbing the first bottle of pills he sees. ‘Panadol, that’ll have to do,’ He thinks as he takes to bottle to his bedroom. He’s cleaned his room, tidying everything up to make sure the person that gathers his stuff and packs it up once he’s gone doesn’t have much trouble. He sits on his bed and grabs his cup of water. He empties a small hand full of tablets into his palm and swallows them two at a time. He can feel himself losing consciousness as he lays himself down, but he is still able to hear someone enter his bedroom. Anne looks up from the letter in her hand, informing her that the wedding has been moved from the town hall to the backyard of the Tomlinson’s when she spots her son lying on his bed, an almost empty bottle of Panadol lying next to him. She rushes over to him and drops to her knees. Harry’s eyes are getting heavy and he’s being enveloped into the darkness. He can hear his mother’s pleas, and he’s sorry that she had to be the one to find him like this. She stands up and runs to the stairs, yelling at Gemma from the banister._

_“GEMMA! CALL AN AMBULANCE!” Anne rushes back in to Harry’s room, praying desperately for him to open his eyes._

_“Harry?” No response. “Harry, come on. This isn’t funny.” No response. Harry is slowly dying. Anne reaches for Harry’s wrist, desperately trying to find a pulse. It’s hard but she finds one. A weak one. Its then that she realises the cuts lining his arms. “Oh God Harry why?” She’s crying now. The ambulance arrives three minutes later, the men telling Anne to step back as they check Harry over. They pick him up and carry him downstairs into the ambulance._

_“Gemma, go get Louis. We’ll meet you at the hospital.” Gemma nods, salty tears cascading over her cheeks as she watches her mother follow her dying brother into the back of the ambulance._

Louis wakes up in a white room, a pounding headache behind his left eyebrow and he groans as he opens his eyes to a bright light. Gemma is sitting next to him, staring at the floor, thinking hard about something; she looks up when she hears him groan and Louis can see that she’s crying. Yet again. He wonders why when he remembers why he’s here; why he collapsed.

“Harry!” He gasps as he tries to sit up.

“Whoa there Lou, easy does it. You gave us quite a scare.” She tries to lay him back down but Louis is persistent.

“Harry, what’s happening with Harry?” He was still trying to get up. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Shh, it’s okay. He’s asleep, on suicide watch. Mum went in about ten minutes after you collapsed but he hasn’t woken up.” She sniffles as she finishes talking. Suicide watch. So Louis didn’t dream it, he’s actually at the hospital because Harry tried to off himself.

“Does anyone know _why_ I fainted?” Louis asked, settling himself back on the bed, back resting against the pillows.

“The doctors say it was mainly shock. You had a fast heart rate too, when they checked you over. You must really care for Harry…”

“I do.” His response is quick, maybe too quick. _It’s just because he’s my best friend. Not because of anything else. Right?_

This thought gets Louis thinking. Maybe Harry wasn’t just his best friend anymore. What if it was beginning to become something more that?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The first time Louis is allowed to see Harry, is two days after he was admitted and he’s asleep - well that’s what Louis assumes. He is shocked when he sees Harry; pale, wires hooked up to him, IV drip in his arm and a constant beeping from the heart monitor. Louis can’t stand the sight of his best friend and turns around, running out of the ICU unit. But Harry isn’t sleeping. He opens his eyes just enough to see the person at the door and sees Louis staring at him with a broken expression, but there’s another emotion swimming in those eyes. It couldn’t be love. Could it?

The second time Louis is allowed to see him; Harry has been moved from ICU to a general ward. His heart monitor is gone and only has the IV hooked up to his arm for constant hydration. He has a lot more colour in his cheeks, but his eyes aren’t the vibrant emerald green like Louis remembered them; they’re dull and distant and when Louis stands in the doorway, Harry looks up. Louis’ eyes brim with tears at the look Harry gives him - his eyes are glazed over and filled with an unrecognisable emotion, and Louis can’t take it. He runs out of the room once again and doesn’t see the tears sliding down Harry’s cheek.

The third time, Louis is finally able to stay in the room without wanting to run away. He sits in the chair beside Harry’s bed and watches his chest rise and fall, his eyes flutter open. When Harry first sees Louis, his initial reaction is surprise. Louis has bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept for days and his collar bones stick out much more than they used to. Was Louis not eating? Louis was losing sleep over Harry?

“Louis.” Harry’s voice is deep and raspy like it hadn’t been used in weeks.

“Oh Harry.” Louis croaks. Harry moves over on the bed and pats the now bare space, signalling for Louis to get on the bed. Louis chokes on sob and he laughs weakly and climbs on the bed. He nestles his head on Harry’s chest and wraps his arms tight around Harry’s waist. Harry hisses, Louis’ tight grip causing his cuts on his stomach to hurt. Louis sits up, alarmed.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing Lou, just my stomach.” _Stupid, why did I tell him that?_ Harry thinks to himself.

“What about your stomach?” Louis pushes back the blankets and goes to lift up Harry’s ghastly hospital gown - it’s one of those ones that don’t have a back on it - but Harry’s hand grabs his wrist stopping him. “Harry.” He growls. “Let me see your stomach.” Harry sighs loudly, giving up and releases his wrist.

Louis cautiously lifts up the gown and gasps at the sight before him. He notices Harry’s thighs first, and then his sunken stomach and _very_ noticeable ribs, all covered in scars and cuts. Louis can feel his chest tighten and the tears begin to pool in his eyes. Without thinking he reaches out, ignoring the squeak of protest from Harry and delicately traces all the scars. Harry puts his finger under Louis’ chin and tilts his head up. Louis complies but then he notices Harry’s wrist and sobs.

“Harry, why?”

“I can’t tell you Louis.”

“Why not?!” Louis snapped.

“Because you’re the reason!” As soon as the word left his mouth, Harry regrets it.

“W-what?” Louis’ bottom lip trembles as he speaks and Harry really hates himself now. “H-how am I the r-reason?”

“Because…” Harry groans, stuffing his head into his hands. “Just because Lou.”

“ _That’s_ your reason?! Because?! So I’m just supposed to sit here and know that I caused you - my _best friend -_  to inflict _self-harm_ and not know exactly why since the only reason you tell me is _because_?!” Louis finished his rant, fresh tears running down his flushed cheeks as he jumped off the bed and storming to the door. “Let me know when you’re ready to grow up and tell me _exactly_ why I caused you to do that.” And with that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

Louis runs down the hallway, wiping angrily at the tears falling from his eyes as he ignores the confused calls from Anne and Gemma. He’s almost out the door when he runs into someone, not just anyone; his _fiancé._

 “Louis, we need to talk.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Louis sits against the wall opposite Harry’s room after talking to Eleanor. He’s already called his mum and family, letting them know what has happened. He can hear Harry and Anne talking about something but he isn’t concentrating enough to figure out what. When she walks out of the room, Anne notices Louis’ emotionless facial expression straight away and slides down the wall to sit down beside him. They sit in silence for a few minutes before Louis takes a breath and begins to ask how Harry is when at the same time Anne is asking if _he_ is okay. She motions for Louis to continue and he asks again.

“Oh he’s fine; he’s just getting some well needed rest. Now, how are _you_ Louis? And don’t you dare tell me you’re okay, because I can see it in your eyes that you’re not.” It’s freaky how well Anne knows him. He sighs and shuts his eyes for a brief moment.

“I ran into El…”

“Oh. Alright out with it, what did you do?” Her voice is playful and Louis smiles weakly.

“I’m not engaged anymore.” Anne gasps, all playfulness gone from her face as she looks at Louis. “It’s really not that bad,” Louis continues when he sees the look Anne gives him. “But uh, she said that she’d been seeing someone on and off and couldn’t bear with the guilt anymore.” _And I might like your son._ Louis gasps quietly, _Where the hell did_ that _come from? I’ve never thought about Harry like that…_

“Oh Lou…” She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into her side. He slumps into her and rests his head on her shoulder as she places a soft kiss on the top of his head, like his mother would. She holds him, not asking a thing and when Louis sits back up again, she watches him with a softened expression as he brings his hand up and wipes away the tears that had fallen without a sound.

“Thanks Anne, for everything.”

“No problem love. Now, are you going to tell me why you ran out of Harry’s room like that before?”

“Well, it’s just that - Harry told me…” He trails off, not knowing how to break it to Anne

“What? Told you what?”

“That I’m the reason.”

“Reason?” She tilts her head, looking at Louis confused.

“That he cuts. That he tried to off himself.” Louis cringes at his choice of words, but his temper rises as he thinks of Harry’s words, _“You’re the reason!”_

Anne doesn’t say anything; she just turns her head and stares ahead at the white wall across from her. Louis looks up at her, feeling uncomfortable in the silence that awkwardly fills the air. “Anne? Anne, please don’t be mad at me, I swear I have no idea how I could possibly be the reason and Harry won’t tell me anything.”

“Louis,” She sighs. “I’m not blaming you for anything.” She doesn’t say anything else, but she gets up and brushes the dust off of her jeans. “Talk to him, try and coax something out of him.” And then she leaves, walking in the direction of the cafeteria.

Louis sits back against the wall and sighs as he softly closes his eyes. He doesn’t realise he’s fallen asleep until a nurse comes up and shakes his shoulder. He’s startled awake and mumbles sleepily, “Harry?” before he looks up and sees the white uniform. The nurse looks at him with a sad look and offers him a hand to stand up, which he gladly accepts.

“Are you mister Tomlinson?” She asks.

“Yup, that’d be me.” He yawns after, rubbing his neck, and really regrets sitting against the hard wall.

“Mister Styles was asking for you. He wanted to know if you had left the building or not.” Louis raises his eyebrows in surprise. _Harry was asking for me?_ “Shall I let him know you’re here or would you like to just go in?” Louis doesn’t answer, which is quite rude and his mother would’ve given him a stern look if she was here, Louis just walks up and enters Harry’s room.

“Lou? Is that you?” Harry’s rubbing his eyes as he sits up, he has bags under his eyes and his cheeks are red and blotchy. Louis leans against the door and looks at Harry.

“Yeah Haz, it’s me.” At the sound of his voice Harry starts to sob, which really isn’t fair because Louis is _trying_ so hard to be mad at Harry but he just can’t _stand_ to see him like this. Louis walks over to the side of Harry’s bed and removes the hair from his forehead. Harry looks up at him, big jade eyes filled with unshed tears and Louis’ chest hurts. “God Haz,” Louis sobs as he sits down on Harry’s bed. “You are so _frustrating._ ” He hits Harry’s chest lightly as he drops his head weakly. “Why did you try and kill yourself Harry?”

“You said you wanted me to be happy.”

“You did this, because you wanted to be _happy_?” Louis asks, his eyes narrowing as he waits for Harry’s answer.

“No, wait,” Harry groans, tipping his head back onto the pillow. “That’s not what I meant Lou,” Louis snaps his head up, staring right into Harry’s downcast, and guilt filled eyes.

“No! You don’t get to ‘Lou’ me! I’ve _always_ been there for you; all you had to do was come up to me and ask for help! You didn’t have to be alone, I would’ve-”

“Would’ve what? Huh?” Harry scoffs as Louis’ eyes turn down and he bites his bottom lip suddenly finding the bed sheets fascinating. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Louis, I’ve been… like this for over _five_ years. A simple, ‘I need help’ wasn’t an option. I didn’t want help. I just wanted _you._ ”

“Me? Why did you want me?”

“Because I love you, you idiot! But you have been too _blinded_ with _your_ love life to realise it! I have been in love with you for three years Louis, three years. For three years I’ve hidden myself away in the bathroom or my bedroom and tortured myself because you didn’t feel the same. For three years I’ve longed to feel you in my arms, your breath on my neck as we made love, the taste of your lips on mine, the burning sensation on my skin as you held me. I’ve wanted to hold your hand in public, to hear the sound of your gentle snores that put a smile on my face as they lull me to sleep. But most of all, I craved to hear you say that you love me as much as I love you.” Before he can get anymore words out, there’s a pair of hesitant lips on his. They’re chapped and chewed raw, but they’re plump. They’re firm against his mouth, however at the same time they’re soft. It’s over just as quick as it started and Harry just wants to pull him back in and kiss him until his lips are red and bruised, until he’s out of breath. Until he has the taste of _LouisLouisLouis_ forever on his tongue, until every bit of Louis’ mouth is memorised and burnt into his brain. So that’s what he does.

.……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Louis isn’t sure why he does it, but he lets Harry bring him in for a second kiss. He blames being in a state of mind where his emotions were running wild and Harry’s confession of his feelings making them worse. Part of him wanted to just shut him up. But the other part wanted _something._ Maybe something that would help figure out these sudden feelings he was having towards Harry. Were they purely just in the moment? Was it just because Harry had almost died? Or were they ‘maybe-maybe not’ feelings that had been locked up for so long, and Louis had finally realised how true they could be? _You wouldn’t be snogging if there weren’t feelings_ somewhere _in your body idiot._ That little nagging voice inside his head was really starting to annoy Louis.

He feels Harry cup his jaw, his thumb rubbing against Louis’ stubble; he can feel Harry’s light but erratic breath hitting his lips, his peppermint toothpaste leaving a fresh taste in Louis’ mouth. Sweet spice filled his senses - was that cinnamon he could smell? He opens his eyes, _When did I close them?_  seeing Harry’s eyes closed; he looks content. There’s soft rain hitting the window of the hospital room, the soft pitter-patter relaxing them both. As they pull apart, Louis exhales shakily and Harry tries not to, he really does, but he lets out a soft whine as Louis’ lips leave his once again.

“Well,” Harry breaths out, his cheeks flushed. “I expected a rash response, but not _that_ rash.” Louis blushes, his actions only now daunting on him. He had kissed Harry. _Harry_. His best mate. “Louis, what about Eleanor?” Oh. Right.

“We broke it off.” Harry sits up a bit straighter.

“What? Why?” So Louis explains, but he tactically leaves out the part where he thought about Harry in a romantic way, and Harry can feel himself getting angry. “She cheated on you? And she _still_ agreed to marry you?!” Louis shrugs, playing with the hospital bed sheet. “Louis, she didn’t deserve you. She never did.” Louis looks up, tears brimming his eyes.

“I just thought she really loved me, y’know? W-why didn’t she love me as much as I l-loved her?” He hiccups over his words as a hand comes to rest on his cheek, brushing away the fallen tears.

“Hey, shh, Louis it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” Harry pulls him into his bed and Louis goes without a fuss, facing away from Harry with his knees bent and his cold feet entangled in the sheets. Harry wraps an arm around Louis’ slim waist, tucks his knees behind Louis’ and buries his head into the junction where Louis’ neck and shoulder meet. It’s been a long time since they laid together like this, and right in that moment Harry has never felt happier. Louis sniffles, rubbing at his eyes before reaching to entangle his hand with Harry’s. He fights to keep his eyes open, but as soon as he hears the soft, “Go to sleep Lou, it’s okay, I’m here,” he’s drifting off into a dreamless sleep, and that’s fine with him.

/

The two women watch from the doorway with fond eyes. In some ways they knew this would happen. Anne was happier now, seeing her son not suffering as much, and Jay, who had arrived to comfort Louis, was just happy her son had found a sort of closure. Both were happy their sons had their best friends back.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

On Tuesday, December 10th, one day after Louis was supposed to marry, and four days after being admitted to hospital, Harry is released only to be taken to a rehabilitation centre. He spends two weeks inside, going to therapy; both individual and group, looking at bare, white walls, and not being able to relieve some stress. His wrists were bandaged and he had to suffice by scratching over his clothing and grip into his skin, leaving half-moon indents on his pale arms and legs. The only time he isn’t scratching at his clothes for release is when he’s on the phone to Louis. He’s allowed one call every three days and that’s the best part of his day.

Harry gets to talk to Louis like he used to, he can talk, talk, talk and not have to worry about Louis hanging up on him to meet Eleanor somewhere. They talk for as long as they can, constantly making each other giggle and blush when witty flirting is thrown back and forth between them. But when it comes to saying goodbye, Harry grips the phone that little bit tighter as he whispers into the phone, wishing that he didn’t have to hang up; but there’s someone next to him, giving him a stern look before telling Harry to say goodbye or else he won’t get phone privileges anymore. He almost doesn’t get the words out when he tells Louis he loves him. He doesn’t expect it to be repeated, and he’s okay with that. Harry knows that Louis isn’t 100% sure about his feelings for him.

They never really talked about the kisses they shared, the following morning after the proclamation of Harry’s feelings and sleeping with their legs entangled, Louis just said that there may be some hidden feelings inside him somewhere and that he would have to think really hard over the two weeks. This was followed by a witty response that went along the lines of not thinking _too_ hard and hurting yourself which resulted in a slap to the arm courtesy of Louis.

It snows almost every day that Harry’s in there. Ranging from heavy blankets falling continuously and a light sheets in 20 minute intervals. Harry spends most of his free time rugged up, reading a book Louis bought him or creating a scrapbook for Louis’ birthday, or even staring out of his window, watching the snow fall and thinking how he would love to be free like a snowflake, able to fall and not be judged.

On the 23rd of December, the day before Louis’ birthday, Harry is released. He walks out, only to find Louis leaning in the doorway of the rehab centre, his arms wrapped around his body; track pants on, an oversized jumper with too-long sleeves and a scarf wrapped around his neck. He’s never looked better in Harry’s eyes.

“Louis.” Harry breaths out, walking closer to him. Louis snaps his head up, releasing his intense stare from his phone and resting his eyes on Harry. “Why are you here?”

“To pick you up silly. What? Did you think you were going to _walk_ home?” Louis gives him a cheeky smile, his eyes shining bright. He pulls Harry into a tight embrace, his arms immediately finding their way around his waist and Harry’s arms wind around Louis’ middle. “I missed you.” Louis mumbles into Harry’s shoulder. Harry holds him impossibly tighter and stuffs his head into the crook of Louis’ neck.

“I missed you too Lou. _So much_.” Louis pulls back, tentatively shifting his gaze back and forth between Harry’s emerald green eyes to his tantalizing, pink mouth. He swipes his tongue over his own lips before looking back up to Harry for confirmation. “God Lou, just _kiss_ me already.” And Louis gives into temptation, finally kissing those lips he’s been thinking about for two weeks.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The ride home from the centre is a quiet one. The first 10-15 minutes are spent talking about little things like Louis’ family, how Harry coped with the hospital-like food being forced into his stomach, of course, Louis is more careful with his wording than this, and what has been going on at home. About 20 minutes into the drive, Harry falls asleep. Louis first notices the sudden slow, calm breaths. Then he notices the absent feeling of Harry’s thumb slowly rubbing circles into the back of Louis’ hand. When he’s stopped as the road is cleared of slush, due to the snowfall on the outskirts of Cheshire, Louis looks over and his heart warms at the sight.

Harry has his mouth ajar slightly, his curly locks have fallen into his eyes, but Louis can still see the fluttering of his eyelashes and he’s snoring softly, his breath coming out in short huffs. He looks so adorable, Louis just has to take a picture. He pulls out his phone, a small smile making its way on his face as he looks at his lock screen; a picture of him and Harry sleeping, taken by his mother when the two boys fell asleep at the hospital. A bit creepy, but cute nonetheless. He snaps a picture and smiles fondly before jumping at the sound of a horn coming from the car behind him _. Sheesh, some people are just impatient._ He looks at Harry once more, who hadn’t even flinched and accelerates. He arrives at Anne’s house and sees the Christmas tree lit up and surrounded by presents through the window. He unbuckles and hops out of his side of the car; wrapping his arms around himself as the cold air hits him like a ton of bricks, going around to Harry, opening the door slowly and unbuckles Harry’s seatbelt carefully.

“Harry…” Louis tries shaking him slightly, only getting a grunt in response. “Harry come on, it’s cold and your mum has been waiting to see you again.” With no response, he sighs and shakes Harry’s arm again. “I’ll make you some hot cocoa?” Louis tries and one of Harry’s eyes open.

“With marshmallows?” Louis chuckles, Harry was such a child sometimes.

“Sure, if Anne has any which I’m sure she does.”

“How about whipped cream?” He’s fully awake now, giving Louis the puppy eyes and pout.

“Don’t push it.”

/

“HARRY EDWARD STYLES! GET YOUR ARSE BACK HERE!” Harry screeches out a laugh as he runs away from a flour covered Louis. They’d just put a cake for Louis’ birthday into the oven when Louis turned around only to be gifted with a handful of flour hitting him right in the face. _Bullseye_ , Harry had thought smugly until Louis looked up with an evil glint in his eye. Anne watches on amused, laughing along with Jay and Gemma as Louis chases after Harry, shouting profanities at him with a wooden spoon in hand, and flour all over his head and clothes _. Of all days to wear black trackies._   He smiles sheepishly at the women as he passes the living room and into the backroom.

He slows to a stop, looking around the room, trying to spot Harry’s unruly mop of curls. He doesn’t see him, he hears him. A quiet giggle, a manly giggle of course, comes from behind the couch in the corner. He walks up to the wall, hides the wooden spoon behind his back and looks down at Harry with a smirk on his face. “Gotcha.” He reaches out a hand, and Harry takes it cautiously, looking at Louis with a confused face. “So, apparently you think it’s okay to throw flour all over me and not be rewarded with this,” The wooden spoon hits Harry’s face, leaving cake batter splat on his cheek. Harry’s expression is almost comic, his eyes go wide and a total look of bewilderment as shock and acknowledgement of what just happened sets in.

“Louis!” Harry exclaims, setting off after him as Louis cackles and runs out of the room, beginning the chase once again.

 

Louis smiles as he sits on the floor with his legs crossed and opens his birthday presents later that night, after they’ve eaten the cake that he and Harry managed not to burn, God knows how. He unwraps the one from his mother first gasping as he sees the Apple MacBook Air inside. He hugs her and thanks her relentlessly. He grabs the next one, seeing that it was from Anne and Gemma. He tells them that they really didn’t have to buy him anything but he opens it regardless. He laughs when he sees the red Power Ranger mouse pad and gapes at both of them when three hundred pounds falls out of the card. Anne simply says that they didn’t know what to get, so he can chose and buy something himself. He hugs both of them, giving each a kiss on the cheek and laughs when Gemma pulls away feigning disgust.

It’s Harry’s present that gets to him the most. It’s a scrapbook; a large one, with a picture of the both of them on the front reading ‘ _Boo Bear and Haz’_ in intricate lettering. He looks at Harry, who’s smiling with big eyes as he watches Louis turn the pages laughing at the captions and the funny faces that both boys pulled over the years. It’s when he gets to the middle that he inhales sharply and his heart leaps into his throat. There’s a polaroid picture of the two of them at a younger Louis’ birthday; Louis is beaming happily at the camera with his arm around Harry. Harry’s full blown smiling, but he isn’t looking at the camera. He’s looking at _Louis._ The look Louis is unknowingly receiving is one of adoration, happiness and love. You can see Harry’s dimples clearly and his eyes are bright. This was the year before Louis met Eleanor and _now,_ now he notices how happy Harry used to be, and he can’t help but feel disappointed in himself that he hadn’t noticed earlier. But it’s the caption - ‘ _This is my favourite photo :)’_  and note beside the photograph that causes the tears to form.

_Louis. Boo Bear. Do you want to know why this is my favourite photo? Well, this was before you met Eleanor, and it was one of the happiest times in all the years I’ve known you. I’m not very photogenic, I can never smile at a camera properly, but in this picture I, myself, think that I look genuinely happy to be there, to be on this Earth. I probably felt genuinely happy too. You made me happy Lou. You probably don’t want to know this, but the day we met, I was on my way to the pharmacy to buy a bottle of prescription pills and kill myself. That’s a really blunt way to put it, I know, but it’s true. You literally turned me around and saved my life Louis Tomlinson. And I am forever grateful. This is the last photo I’m going to stick in, for now. It’s time to forget the past and make new, happier memories in the future. Together._

_Love,_

_Harry xx_

Louis swallows thickly, looking up at Harry through blurry eyes. “Harry,” He all but whispers his name. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Anne motion to the others to quietly make their way into the kitchen. Louis tells himself to thank her for that later. He gets to his feet and walks over to where Harry was sitting on the couch. He shyly sits himself down next to Harry and uses his fingers to tilt Harry’s head up to look at him. “I love you.”

The next day, Christmas Day, Louis wakes up to the sound of birds chirping and seriously, why are they up? It’s Christmas Day for God’s sake. He groans and pulls the quilt further up his body, tucking It under his chin and turns to his side, coming face to face with a sleeping Harry. He tries to memorise his features and what he does when he sleeps. The way he scrunches his eyebrows together and huffs out breaths. His hair flops over his forehead and his eyes flutter. He looks like an innocent child when he sleeps, and Louis has to refrain from letting an ‘Awe’ escape his lips.

“Stop starin’ Lou.” Louis jumps and his eyes widen as he can’t grab the bedding fast enough and tumbles not so gracefully out of the bed. He moans as his head and back hit the hard floor and a cool breeze washes over him. He looks up to the bed just in in time to see Harry peak over the edge, his facial expression giving away that he’s still sleepy, yet holding in a laugh.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare laugh. It’s your fault im down here.” He points a threatening finger at him but it ends up on his face as he covers his face with both hands and giggles at the situation he’s found himself in. Of course, once he starts laughing, he can’t seem to stop. They laughs so much it starts to become painful. Louis is startled when he feels pressure on his abdomen and a pair of bigger hands cover his and pull them away from his hidden face. His laugh dies down to a giggle and then to a sheepish grin as he looks up at Harry, who’s grinning like a Cheshire cat down at him. His smile softens as he removes his hand from Louis’ and reaches out to remove hair that had fallen into Louis’ eyes. He dips down slowly, letting his breath hit Louis’ lips and closes the gap between them. He kisses him languidly, savouring the moment. Louis kisses back gently, a small smile appearing on his lips. It’s a short kiss but a lot of emotion is felt between them.

“Morning Lou,” Harry whispers as he pulls away. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas Harry.” He reaches up and wraps his hand around Harry’s neck, bringing him down for another sweet kiss. A cough from the doorway breaks them apart and they both look to the side to see Gemma standing with a smug looks on her face.

“Sorry to interrupt this _adorable_ moment, but Mum said that we can’t eat or open the presents until you two get your butts downstairs. So come on.” She smirks as she turns and walks away. The two boys look at each other a giggle quietly. Louis taps Harry’s thigh, indicating for him to get off of him but Harry stays.

“Lou,” Louis looks up at Harry’s eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

Louis smirks, “You just did, but sure.”

“Will you be mine? And only mine?” And _oh, that sounded like a proposal_. “What I mean to say is, wow I’m nervous. Louis William Tomlinson, will you be my boyfriend?” Louis smiles softly and reaches his hand out to cup Harry’s cheek.

“Of course Harry, I’d love that.” And Harry smiles a smile that makes Louis love him even more.

“I love you.”

“I love _you_.”

As they embrace once more, Harry starts to feel his eyes water. _Damn emotions._ But it just goes to show, sometimes it _is_ worth getting out of bed in the morning.

**_ The End. _ **


End file.
